Pretty Little Risk
by SallySorrell
Summary: In the mind of Tony Almeida, everything had a specific purpose... everything except his own life.   He spends all his time behind bars dreaming of Michelle... oneshot


**Author's Note: So, I came up with the title ages ago, and it spun into an odd little song, so I figured "Why not makes this a Tony/Michelle story?" It kind of worked. (Rewritten/edited 7/24/2010)**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

Every morning, Tony would glance up from his cot, for exactly two and a half seconds, at the line of people passing by.

Yes, he counted each moment. He didn't let himself devote any more time or attention than necessary to those that didn't matter. This was his world now. Everything needed a purpose, and a specific function, and his mind organized it as such.

Those guys passing his room? Half of them went to pick up trash for some community service. A few went and did some wood-working; others read and volunteered at a local school.

None of those things had a purpose in Tony Almeida's mind.

Does jail change people? He pondered that question one day, and ended up scratching a deep, heartfelt answer onto the wall, hidden by the boards of his bed. These ramblings were eventually moved to a notebook that a visitor left for him. But Tony hadn't seen the visitor. He narrowed it down to a handful of former co-workers, however.

This little book, its cover like faded denim, was what Tony lived for. And it would be his way out.

He decided that one day, while sitting in the back of the cell. He decided right there that he wanted to forget what he looked like. That was the first step to his escape and recovery.

_I broke the mirror..._

_I was tired of the view_

_Of a helpless-looking me_

_Not standing next to you_

A gentle tune enlisted itself among Tony's thoughts, and he fit some attempts at poetry to it. These, as you may have guessed, were recorded in Tony's notebook.

_You were more than just a _

_Step out of line_

_I swore, that day,_

_In that church,_

_You were mine_

Tony looked at the chipped paint on the ceiling above him. The book sat open on his chest, moving slightly each time he breathed. His eyes fluttered shut, and he sighed.

_You always talked me out of the easy way_

_The one that was painless_

_You led to me to the tougher way_

_Generally, dangerous_

_But then what did you do?_

_What were you thinking, _

_Talking me in to you?_

He recalled the day they met. Both were doing some field training, before their employment at CTU was official. So, whenever Tony thought that he should've pursued a career in music, that day always reeled him backward.

_That's all that you are_

_My pretty little risk_

_All you'll ever be_

_But you mean the world to me_

He scratched all memories of his face out of his mind. The next thing he wanted to see was her. The only face he wanted to remember belonged to Michelle. His was only a distraction. And Tony's new, analytical system warned against that.

_You're the reason I'm sitting here_

_While you're so safe at home_

_I did it for you,_

_But I never thought you'd be alone_

Those people marching by must have been clueless! They were going out to help others, and to 'give back' to a community who'd never given anything to start with. America was... ungrateful. Long ago, Tony was one of those guys, happily wearing a vest, a holster, a badge. This glamorous profession never brought him anything of gratitude, until Michelle.

_My pretty little risk_

_You've got all my attention_

_And, oh_

_I forgot to mention_

_I'm coming back for you_

_I'm going to take a risk too_

_My pretty little risk_

_I'll be back for you_

_My pretty little risk..._

Tony sprang up from his bed, stirred by an echoing siren. Several gunshots rang from the hallway. Tony spun and ducked behind his bed, though it offered little protection.

As he shut his eyes, a breathless woman appeared and shoved her hands through the bars. Tony's hands met hers.

"Let's go."

That voice could only belong to Michelle.

Tony grabbed his book as the door (and his eyes) swung open.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yep, 'song' lyrics are by me… like 'em? Are the characterizations okay? Does the story make any sense?**

**I want to hear from YOU! *points like Uncle Sam***

**~Sally**


End file.
